Lessons from My Dad – Part 3

He and my mom had wanted three boys, and gave up after having me and my two sisters. I wouldn’t say that Daddy celebrated strong feminist values (he couldn’t stand Jane Fonda - so much so that we dared not mention her name for fear of having to listen to a 2-hour diatribe), BUT when it came to US, his three girls, he was always our biggest champion.

His lessons have more than stood the test of time for me:

Don't be a quitter

Don’t make the same mistake twice

You can do anything you put your mind to

Wrapping these up with his overarching ideas of counting your blessings, believing in yourself, and living boldly, I’d say my Dad did a pretty darned good job of teaching us to take risks.

As a result, I’m pretty adventurous when it comes to embarking on new directions, and my (blessedly) excellent health and high energy levels support me well. However, sometimes risk-taking isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You have to be willing to try with all your heart and let the chips fall where they may.

Once when as a teenager I went on a church youth trip. We arrived at the designated countryside retreat for the day, and promptly all ran down to the side of a beautiful lake. It happened to be a cool, crisp autumn day; we were wearing jackets it was so chilly.

There was a rope swing there, hanging from a huge oak tree. So inviting! Several of my fellow retreat-goers in turn grabbed the rope and leapt into the air, out over the lake, returning back to safe ground easily. There was lots of whooping and hollering going on!

At first I refused to do it, thinking the entire thing a bit childish. But the revelry was contagious, and soon I found myself in line to take my turn. I did what they had done, grabbing the rope and pulling it far back from the shore, so as to get a running start before leaping to swing out over the water. The outward leg of my trip was thrilling and exhilarating – the water sparkling, the sun twinkling through the towering trees, the delighted youthful screams.

At the apex of the swing’s arc, something went awry. In less than a nanosecond, my arms and hands simply gave out - and I plunged like a sack of potatoes right into the cold water, fully clothed and with shoes on. Was I surprised, as was everyone else!

I don’t remember how I got dry after that; again, it was COLD that time of year. We were there for the day, though, and this happened EARLY … so I suppose the camp operators must have taken pity on me and given me some blankets and a fire to dry off in front of. Not sure - I seem to have blocked it out!

But back to taking risks. Yes – I got wet that day. And yes – the other kids laughed uproariously at me (once they knew I was okay). But I survived, and the only thing that was truly bruised was my pride. That exhilarating outward swing was actually worth the fall!

On this Father’s Day, I’d like to say: “Thanks, Daddy, for always encouraging me to be courageous about trying new things!